Omit
by PWTMC
Summary: A little white lie to get Sakura into ANBU morphs into something else entirely. Eventual KakaSaku.


OOO

It's natural progression, the next step in her career. There's no way he would say no. So what if they haven't talked in a while? Sakura knew Kakashi well enough to be confident in his ability to asses her. She was ready for this and she knew that he would feel the same.

So, what's the hold up?

Sakura smoothed her hands over her skirt and took a deep breath before approaching the silver-haired shinobi at his spot by the memorial stone. It was early. She knew she would find him here, laying on the concrete like some carefree child, ruining the sight with the explicit book in his gloved hand.

"Sensei?" She said, stopping a foot before the risen platform.

Kakashi looked to her with his one visible eye. His arched eyebrow was his only show of interest. Sakura rose hers in turn, smiling down at him. She would wait for him to speak first, but something told her he wouldn't be doing so. It didn't calm her nerves any, either. The last time she spoke to him was at her jonin inauguration. She was twenty.

Three years had passed and she wasn't here with a "how are you?", she needed a favor.

"I was wondering if I could ask you a favor."

He nodded, "Of course."

Kakashi closed the cover of his dirty book and dropped it to the ground before pushing himself up to sit. There was no emotion in his little 'of course' so Sakura couldn't tell if he was agitated that after so much time she came right out with the favor or if he was just glad they were talking. Or somewhere in between.

It wasn't like he put much into their working relationship. Sakura knew she shouldn't feel bad for letting him drift away but another part of her couldn't help it because she knew he was just that kind of person. She could always keep in touch. She knew where to find him obviously.

"I'd like to get a recommendation for ANBU." She said, bringing her hands behind her back and tanging her fingers together.

Kakashi tilted his head, muttering a quiet, "Hmm..."

Sakura hoped he was thinking good thoughts.

Then, just like that, he clapped his own hands together and smiled that closed-eyed smile. "I'd love to recommend you."

Relief rushed over Sakura and she literally bent, bringing her previously busy hands back out. She knew she was nervous before she even came out here this morning, but she had no idea how nervous she was until now. The urge to laugh was heavy.

"Thank you, Kakashi-sensei."

Kakashi just nodded and went back to his book. That was easy enough.

Unsure of what to say, Sakura turned back toward the path to the village and threw a hand up in a hurried wave, "See you around, Kakashi-sen-"

"Just one question."

She stopped, turning back. "Yes?"

"Why not ask Tsunade-sama? She is Hokage, after all. A recommendation from her would be like a guaranteed spot."

Sakura brushed her hair out of her face. She was prepared for this question. No use lying to Kakashi, after all. If he really wanted to know, he could find out. Besides, so what if he wasn't the first person she asked? He already said yes. He was going to write her the recommendation, anyway.

"I did." She explained, "She said it wasn't her place."

"Ah."

Long, awkward pause.

Sakura debated just walking away.

"Carry on, then." Kakashi finally said.

And she left.

OOO

After carrying on with a regular day, she fell asleep at her normal ten or eleven o'clock.

She was rudely forced out of her sleep at four in the morning when Kakashi entered her room without so much as a knock. As terrifying as the thought that anybody with the same skillset as Kakashi (not that that was really too many people...) could just waltz in her room at night, and possibly kill her, was – she couldn't help but be angry when he flicked on the light and gave her that same lazy one-eyed glance he was so prone to giving her.

Sakura glared at her teacher with sleepy eyes before rolling over, her back to her intruder, and pressing her pillow to her face.

"I got you an interview at six." He finally said.

"Go away."

Kakashi sighed and behind herself Sakura could hear him shuffling around; crossing his arms and uncrossing them, leaning on one leg and then the other, touching pages of his damn book.

And then she realized he said six. It was four now. How the hell was she supposed to go in there in any mind frame good enough to secure her job in just two hours?

She turned around, wishing she could just will Kakashi away, "I'm not ready."

"I'll get you ready."

Exasperated, she returned to her previous position, hiding from Kakashi and his ridiculously oversimplified claims, "In two hours?" came her muffled reply.

"The interview is at six p.m."

Recommendations work on an individual basis. There is no lengthy chunin exam style test, just a lengthy, in-depth process to determine if she's right for the job or not. It all started with this interview. Kakashi has already done this once before, when he was much younger than Sakura was now, and even though he's been out of those ranks for quite some time he still had major pull with the organization. Whatever Kakashi did (or sacrificed, probably) during his time there, everybody seemed grateful for it. She should have figured they would let him choose his own time. One more convenient for Sakura than six in the morning.

Still, she couldn't help but be a bit mad.

She wanted to roll over and glare at him again, but a bigger part of her didn't want to move at all. She wanted to go back to sleep. It was too early for Kakashi to be here. If her damn interview wasn't even until this evening, surely he could have came for her at a more reasonable hour.

"Why are you even here right now?" She asked, tired anger surging in her voice.

"Because we have a lot to get done today."

His footsteps headed for her door. He wasn't leaving, though. Just heading to the living room to wait for her make herself presentable.

"If you want my help, I'd suggest you get up now."

Sakura would have rather had Tsunade's help.

Wasn't Kakashi supposed to be lazier?

OOO


End file.
